Sometimes when you think life couldn't possibly get any weirder, something totally off-the-wall and insane unfolds.

As many of you might realize by now, I've been suffering madly from some quite bizarre ailments, as of late, hence the reruns, substitute reporters and the team of experts that now surrounds me on a daily basis in order to get me through life's most mundane and simple tasks.

Somehow through the cloud of total despair, in which I now dwell, some humor has managed to fight its way to the front lines, of my warped noggin. Mind you, at the time, this was far from funny but, looking back on it either makes one laugh or cry and I have made the decision to laugh.

The following story is kind of disgusting, yet odd and creepy, all at once, so bear with me, please, like you have an option. Actually, you do have an option.

Warning: This column really should not be enjoyed with a side of beef gravy or any sort of pasta dish. It is not for the easily grossed-out among us, either, so just remember that you were prepped for this. You shall understand soon—especially when it comes to the pasta/gravy mixture.

Let us now begin. Some of you might remember my sheer, pure, unconditional school-girl love and giddiness, a while back, when I purchased the most adorable little pink computer that had ever been placed on Ebay. For those of you who haven't a clue, join the crowd but, as far as the little computer goes, a slight refresher course might be necessary at this point.

Due to my camping obsession, I decided to buy a 7 inch Chinese computer straight from China for the huge cost of $85, tax, title and license. I became instantly infatuated with my petite pink partner, even though it couldn't pull off one sixteenth of the things that “normal” laptop computers are known for doing.

I simply adored our long walks, hand and mouse, along the campground roads and I lived for taking it along on my excursions. I could work on a report for my job or even pound out a column from the comfort of my own little hammock in the woods. Aah, the memories.

Things were going along stunningly when suddenly, the cats came down with tapeworms. Now, what in the *&%$ am I talking about now and how do worm infested cats have anything to do with a little pink computer affectionately, and originally, named Pinky? Patience my darlings.

First off, I am not having one of those moments when I sway, palm-tree-in-a-hurricane-style, from subject to subject, never quite tying things together. I promise, you will soon understand.

Veering off just slightly, but still sticking with the theme, whatever it might be at this point in time, my darling Perpetual (fiance), is a total procrastinator. However, there is ONE exception to that rule and that would be if our cats are in any kind of peril whatsoever. (I just remembered that doing anything on time during hunting season is also a non-procrastinating kind-of-deal, too.)

I could be in a conference with the above-mentioned team of experts, due to some hideous attack of some nature, but if a cat raised her little paw to display a lodged toothpick, a loud thud would be audible due to my making abrupt contact with the floor after being ditched by a man in high pursuit of a pair of tweezers. Does this paint some type of picture in terms of the rating system around here and... where does that darned computer fit into this scenario?

OK, it is time for the worm portion of this ridiculous piece. Perpetual discovered the little tapes wiggling wildly, as they do, from the hindquarters of our female felines.

This is really quite ordinary, especially during flea season, because the tapes are basically a part of the flea cycle. Cat bites flea, flea ends up in body, something morphs into something else and soon, there are remnants of what appear to be little segments of ramen noodles, which turn into something resembling grains of rice. The rice deal usually occurs once they've dried out and come to rest on bedding, etc. (I didn't realize how many carbohydrates would be involved in this column but, I digress.)

How is it that I have vast knowledge of cat worms, pray tell? Well, back in the 80s, I worked at an animal hospital in Houston. It was my first job in the big city. Honestly, who cares?

Moving along, upon his discovery of the menacing parasites, Perpetual bounded into the home, (much like the FTD Man—minus the flowers), and began describing an oddity on the tuchas of our large black and white cat, Mars. I, of course, was in the midst of medical crisis number 784, but postponed the nervous breakdown for a bit as I took the needed time to explain the whole tape scenario.

The man barely exited the home when suddenly, he returned with a plethora of goods, including flea medicine and de-wormer.

What followed can only be described as freakish. Let me put it this way, a pencil and butter were both involved. Do I have your attention again? I know this is coma inducing thus far and I thank you for hanging in there.

These steps were soon underway: smear butter on the pencil eraser, pry feline mouth to open position, hold front legs for dear life, dip butter laden pencil onto worm pill and gently, yet effectively, jam the pencil down said throat. OK, no jamming went on.

This butter and pencil method was devised by my darling Perpetual. We never used that particular technique at the River Oaks Animal Hospital, as I could just imagine 6 foot 6, and very Texan, Dr. Jensen utilizing butter as a worming aide. I hardly think they learned that at Texas A & M.

In the end, the cats were wormed safely and life went on, as it does even when you beg it to stop, which has been my case for about 6 weeks now. We vowed to leave the beasts outside until everything "worked out," if you catch my drift.

I have now magically made my way clear back to the 7 inch, Chinese computer at this point. Aren't you delighted?

Well, I was innocently perched in a recliner fiddling with the pink computer, which I do sometimes even whilst at home so I can maybe work on something during my outdoor smoking sessions, just for one example.

As I surfed the web in a nonchalant manner, suddenly, our little red headed Manx cat named Zoe shot into the home like a torpedo in the night, even though it was mid-afternoon. I asked Aunt Liz to grab her, which she did, and then, then, I made a request that haunts me to this day.

I asked Aunt Liz to swing Zoe's butt my way so that I could check for any hangers on, so to speak. Keeping in mind that Zoe has no tail, due to her breed, her "region" is easy to spot.

Well, not only was the butt quite easily viewed but, so was the diarrhea that flopped, like a blob of pudding, directly on to the keyboard of my precious pink computer.

Liz and I sprung—or is that sprang.... I never know with that one—into action and seized anything we could to remove the unpleasant substance from every nook and cranny of my small keyboard. Alas, it was not meant to be as my Pinky was dead. (I've always wanted to use that alas word and now I have. Life is looking up.)

Because I must have something like the tiny computer in my life, I ordered another one but upgraded to something that is actually socially acceptable—no offense to Pinkster.

Well, guess what happened just as the new computer was hitting my threshold? You got it. That old pink computer miraculously recovered from the “encounter” with the loose stool.

That basically sums it up and I'm certain you are glad that this has almost come to an end.

So, as our own Callie the Cat Columnist would say, the moral of this story is: Life can get pretty horrific and just when you think things cannot possibly move any further out of the realm of reality, a Manx cat might just saunter along in order to teach you that there is always room for and extra pinch of misery on any given day.

Doesn't this whole saga simply put you in the mind of a Norman Rockwell portrait? Delightful isn't it?

You will be happy to know that I've fallen for this new little computer, which is 10 inches, rather than 7, and I am hoping that it might tie the knot with Pinky and produce netbook children. Oh, the cats are worm free too.

I hope that this column hasn't spoiled your desire for beef tips over noodles or other pasta/gravy dishes. You were warned. Well, all that's left to say is: THE END and you may now breathe a sigh of relief.